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Bruno and Iole
In the morning we cycled to Perdasdefogu and filled both our fuel containers to overflowing. "That should keep us going for a while!" I said. A mere sixteen kilometers farther we topped the Genna Su Ludu summit and our climbing was over. "Things are definitely taking a turn for the better," Sharon smiled, sunlight glinting off her hair. I noticed she was much more sociable after a good night's rest. The road plunged in a hypnotic series of writhing coils, wriggling down the mountainside like some giant asphalt serpent. Whizzing past notches in craggy purple peaks I spied a cloud-like Tyrrhenian Sea edged by sharply-eroded magenta pinnacles far below. "We're almost there!" I shouted in eager anticipation. We rolled through Ierzu - a narrow town crazy-glued to a mountainside with an air of nonchalance. Townsfolk gaped at us open-mouthed as we cruised past. It may have been that they were impressed we were in their fair mountain town on pedal bikes. Or perhaps it was because I was cycling the wrong way down a one-way street. Sharon shouted at me for not paying closer attention to street signs. "At least I don't have to worry about cars behind me," I shouted back, trying to look at the positive side. (Like they say: If everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.) We passed safely through Ierzu, and continued to plummet down the mountainside the air warming deliciously as we did. Zooming down a straight stretch, I was fast approaching a truck parked in my lane, trimming roadside shrubbery. I clamped on my brakes to slow myself and moved into the passing lane. Unfortunately, Murphy's Law was still in effect. Quickly coming towards me was another truck. As Murphy's Law would have it, all three of us met side by side. My bulging panniers hung obtrusively over each side of the double yellow centerline as I squeezed between the two trucks. (Think thin!) "What are you doing?" Sharon screamed from behind as I shaved past. "Trying to get yourself killed?" "It's okay!" I assured her. "I was going slow!" "That just means you would die slower!" She called me a bad word, then said, "I think it's time we stopped to eat. You have no brain-sugar left!" "Sure, Sweetie," I replied. I was always ready to eat. We sat on a hillside under some almond trees, enjoying the luxury of green grass and sunshine. Life was good. After our picnic of bread, honey, and wild almonds, we were ready to tackle the last few kilometers to Arbatax. The roadway was fast and smooth, laced with enough curves to stimulate even the most callused Indy driver's heart into palpitations. Without a worry in the world I swooped through corners, leaning heavily into the curves like some Harley rider I imagined myself to be. In short order (smooth downhills always passed too quickly) we reached Arbatax, and I phoned Bruno and Iole. Iole answered on the first ring with the exuberance I remembered. She welcomed us heartily, then dispatched Bruno to fetch us. We trailed behind Bruno's little car and arrived outside a sprawling two-story apartment building. Iole rushed out the front door, hugged us tightly, and immediately invited us in for coffee cake and espressos. As we sipped our coffees, Iole made good on her original offer, and restated her invitation for us to stay in one of their furnished tourist apartments. "Stay a week if you want," she said. "There won't be anyone until the tourist season." Sharon and I accepted her offer without hesitation. Bruno and Iole beamed. "It will be like a vacation from your holiday," Iole smiled. And that was exactly what we needed. Not only had the constant travel worn us down physically, but not knowing where we would spend each night had worn us down mentally as well. Already, I could feel myself relaxing, knowing where I would lay my head for an entire week. We had a second piece of Iole's scrumptious coffee cake. Then she handed us fresh towels, and showed us to the shower. While Sharon unknotted her long braided hair, I zealously jumped in and enjoyed a marvellous hot scrub. "There's nothing like hot running water!" I said enthusiastically as I finished. Sharon eagerly entered the stall and I realized my pithy observation had been somewhat of an understatement. It sounded as though Sharon's ablution was verging on a religious experience. All I could hear coming from the steamy shower was, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" Fresh and clean, we met our hosts for dinner. Iole had prepared pasta with wild asparagus. "We love wild asparagus," she said passionately. "But we haven't picked much this year there hasn't been enough rain for them to grow well." "You have to be quick, too," Bruno added. "Everyone on the island loves wild asparagus!" "Bruno and I went one afternoon," Iole laughed. "But after two hours we returned empty-handed. The only things we found were cut stalks." Bruno was right. One had to be quick to get the asparagus. I reached over for a second helping. I made sure there were no leftovers before moving on to dessert. Bruno spread yogurt-like cheese onto wafer-thin bread. I followed suit and took a tentative bite. "This cheese is delicious," I said, surprised. "You have fine taste!" "It's Bruno's favourite," Iole said, beaming again, her dark eyes sparkling. "One of Bruno's shepherd friends makes it. Bruno likes it so much," she said, "he once ate a whole liter at one sitting!" Iole paused. "Did you know shepherds on Sardinia make a cheese that has little white worms in it? Stores aren't allowed to sell it. The only way you can get it is by having a shepherd friend." "Oh yes, I know," I said, remembering the cheese from Francesco. "We had some from a shepherd friend." "Oh!" Bruno exclaimed. "You are very lucky! It is considered a great delicacy." (I decided another word for "delicacy" was "gross.") Giant oranges from their orchard completed our meal. "I'm replanting two hundred trees," Bruno said, as he peeled an orange the size of a grapefruit. "A flood killed many of our trees and now we only have these small ones." "Yes," Iole commiserated. "Bruno and I were vacationing in Umbria - a province in northern Italy - and we saw the flood on the evening news." "That's right," Bruno nodded. "When we saw the news, I phoned my brother back in Arbatax to find out how serious it was. He said: 'Bruno, you can take the ferry right to your front door now.'" Bruno shook his head sadly. "Ten years of hard work," he said, "washed away overnight." "Let's have coffees in the living room by the fire," Iole said, changing the subject. We retired to the living room for espressos. A fire made from orange tree wood sizzled in the hearth. Every so often, a stream of water spat rudely onto the tiled floor. "See that?" Bruno asked incredulously. "After a year, it's still not dry." A gentle knock sounded, and a dark-complexioned fellow with jet-black hair and a brilliantly huge white smile entered. We learned that Nino was a seconded teacher from Naples and was teaching English at a school in Arbatax. He was renting one of Iole and Bruno's apartments for the school year and had come over for his nightly visit. I took the opportunity to practice my Italian. Like the school teacher Nino was, he vigilantly corrected my every mispronunciation. "Where are you going from here?" Nino asked. "Civitavecchia," I answered. He made me repeat 'Civitavecchia' a dozen times, and still I didn't pronounce it exactly to his satisfaction. Nino finally threw his arms up in exasperation. "That's nothing!" Sharon crowed delightedly, and proceeded to relate the tale about our meeting the three mountain hut shepherds, and that I had thought "Louie" was the name for all three of them. Large grins spread ear-to-ear as the crowd had a good chuckle at my expense. As I frowned, Sharon sought to reassure me. "Oh, we're not laughing at you," she smiled. Yeah, sure. Why then was everyone addressing me as "Hey, Louie ."? |
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